Sentimental Thoughts Of A Deducing Machine
by SoManyWords
Summary: One Shot. Sherlock's feelings on Molly Hooper.


**Thoughts of a Deducing Machine**

If someone were to ask about Sherlock Holmes, he would be described as; arrogant, cold and unfeeling. Someone who didn't care for boring, unimportant things. Someone who didn't care for things in general. Unless these things were murders and a good serial killer. How he loved a serial killer.

Another thing people would say about Sherlock Holmes would be his incapability to care for people, despite his trusty blogger, landlady and helpful detective inspector.

Even people had second thoughts about this as he seemed cold and unfeeling towards them at times. His 'friends'.

It was much easier to pick out the people Sherlock Holmes didn't like. For example; Anderson, Donavon. They were people he both found annoying and stupid.

However, the was one person that no one really seemed sure of, not that they really gave her a second thought. She was just a mousy pathologist from Barts Morgue, nothing more. She was nothing. Hardly anyone thought she was anything: hardly anyone thought she counted. Not in Sherlock Holme's eyes.

How very wrong they were.

Molly counted. Sherlock saw Molly, a lot more than people thought. He knew what she was capable of and he knew she had a heart of solid gold. He also knew how much he hurt her by simply being in the morgue. He'd avoid it if he could but the morgue and lab were essential for his line of work.

He hated hurting her.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes DID have feelings. Yes, he cared. Yes, he ... Loved. Sentiment, something he told people he hated, something that was merely a distraction. However, love seemed to be the perfect word to describe the feelings he felt as it described something so pure, so innocent, so STRONG.

Yes, Sherlock Holmes felt things, regardless of what everyone else seemed to think; regardless to what he, himself, seemed to think.

He liked to shut it off though, otherwise he felt it too much, he hurt too much. It consumed him. SHE consumed him.

He hated her for it, for making him feel that way.

At first he was obvious, even John noticed it:

"You've been spending a lot of time at Barts recently," He'd stated one of the few evenings they were sat at the flat, in peace and quiet, "Want to talk about it?"

"I don't feel like there's anything to discuss, John." Sherlock had snapped irritably at him, just wanting to be left alone with his Mind Palace.

Thankfully, John had dropped the subject completely

So he'd lessened his morgue visits, throwing himself into his work completely, but he still counted down the days until he saw Molly Hooper.

It was utterly pathetic.

He tried to keep his emotions under check whenever she was around but it was always simple things which showed his cracks. For example; the smell of her perfume, how it would stun him when she walked past, or her ability to blush whenever he said her name, which he did quite often. He adored the way it seemed to roll perfectly off his tongue.

Pathetic. He hated it.

He hated how, (whenever she sat across from him in the lab to do paperwork) he would look up and watch her until he deduced her signs of restlessness. She never caught him looking, of course. He was too clever to allow anything like that.

He knew she loved him, her reactions gave her away; the dilation of eyes; the sudden flushing of cheeks; the nervous way she would avert her eyes from his whenever they spoke.

Sometimes she'd drop her paperwork or whatever chemical she was carrying and, instead of being annoyed like he would be with anyone else, he found he rather liked her for it. It was something that was hers, one of her many quirks.

He was hers.

What?

What was he thinking?

Yet, it was true.

No one else knew that, even she didn't know that.

But, he'd always been and always would be hers.

And she was his. She didn't know that either.

But it was true.

People like John and Mycroft seemed to think he felt sentiment towards Irene Adler.

Ridiculous.

She was a prostitute who took her clothes off to make an impression. Yet she... Intrigued him. She interested him, yes, but it was nothing more than that. He didn't think about her, not like he did with Molly.

Molly. Molly. Molly.

He thought about her. A lot. Not when he was on a case though, oh no. He used his cases as distractions in order to escape her and her ties. He thew himself into his work.

But now and again he found himself thinking. Thinking of the possibilities... The things he could do, the things THEY could do. Together.

A few times he'd almost dropped his act just to be close to her. Many times he just wanted to hold her. He had envisioned himself striding over to her in lab, gathering her small form up into his strong arms and covering her in soft, loving kisses. She wouldn't question it and he wouldn't question it. They'd just let it be.

But he couldn't do that. He had to keep quiet. He had to make sure she didn't count, in case James Moriarty was to find out...

Sherlock shuddered to think what would happen if Moriarty ever found out.

Molly would be skinned. He'd kill her, truly burning the 'heart' out of Sherlock Holmes. He couldn't allow that, he wouldn't allow that.

He had to protect her.

She had to be safe.

Sherlock was very selfless when it came to Molly Hooper.

Maybe one day, he thought as he watched her write up her paperwork in the lab. Maybe one day, Molly Hooper.

**Hoped you liked it :) x**


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